


"I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours."

by Likorys



Series: Tumblr snippets [12]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Jaskier loves him despite the dumb because he's communications ain't the best either, Jaskier meets Geralt as 18 and they end up in bed, M/M, all works out in the end, by which I mean a lot of sex, he's dumb but he's trying, which Geralt dosn't realize for like two decades, which is a first for Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likorys/pseuds/Likorys
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt fall into bead after only a few weeks. It's first and turns into an only for Jaskier, but it's not neither of those for Geralt, so things get complicated before they work out.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr snippets [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651510
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	"I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours."

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote by Rudy Francisco.

It happened in the first town they came upon after Posada (or rather the first one they were allowed to stay the night). Jaskier took it upon himself to spend the evening playing at the inn, to pay for meals and a room - Geralt only rolled his eyes at a cheap excuse and secluded himself in the corner, trying not to mind too much as Jaskier started singing about _him._

He still loathed the lies, but the tune was nice enough and Jaskier had enough skills to cover up for his voice still breaking here and there on occasion.

The song was taken well enough - it landed three separate contracts in Geralt’s hands, so he drunk his complaints in ale and let Jaskier do what he wanted.

But then it was night and the people got drunk and needy. Jaskier was asker for a barely veiled sex-ballad, then people shared few of their own dirtier tunes and before Geralt took notice, the songs turned raunchy which he wouldn’t mind, except-

Jaskier’s eys wouldn’t leave him. He pranced around the inn with seemingly endless energy, only taking breaks to gulp down some beer when his voice started turning hoarse, but somehow whenever Geralt looked up, those blue eyes were on him.

It was bad enough when Jaskier sang about him, making something foreign or just forgotten swell in Geralt’s chest, but then he was still glancing over him as he sang about _tulips_ and _roses_ and _life juices,_ then cratches and bruises before he forwent any subtleties-

Geralt’s not stupid enough to lie to himself. One of the worst issues of his late infamy was being unable to get even _paid companionship_. He’s not weak enough to let it distract him, but a witcher’s life is already scarce with kindness and soft toches, so it was a safe way to ensure he got a regular moment to let off steam whenever the pressure of the world and the weight of its problems became too much to bear.

And Jaskier’s pretty. In those ridiculous clothes, doublet open to show off embroidered chemise, tawny hair peaking from open laces, with slender fingers dancing across the lute without a single mistake as if he was born with it in his hands, and those bright blue eyes - bright as the sky and as vast and easy to get lost in-

Geralt grinds his teeth and storms out of the main room, to the stairs. Jaskier took one short break to throw Geralt a key, smiling and breathless as he explained how he _earned them a room, aren’t you glad I came along, Geralt?_

He gets in and sits on the bed, making a face as it made his pants even less comfortable to sit it. Fuck Jaskier and his stupid songs and the way he'd lick his lips when singing and the candlelight flickering in his eyes and-

“Fuck.” Geralt sighs and lets his head thud against the wall as he rubs his face.

He only manages to think himself into taking off the armor, to get some quick relief and never think of it again, when the doors open.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shuffles on his feet in the doorway, still breathing fast, but with a lute in one hand and a tinkling case in the other. His eyes linger on Geralt, standing by the bed with his shirt in his hands and then snap up suddenly. “Don’t tell me a scary witcher can’t take a little love ballad or two-”

“ _Love_ , that’s what you’d call it?” Geralt snorts before he can stop himself, throwing the shirt with the rest of his clothes.

Jaskier makes a face, which has no business being cute nor getting to witcher’s head, but it does and he very subtly turns in place to keep his dignity.

Too bad Jaskier seems to lack any subtlety himself as he struts across to room to grab is arm. He lets him turn him around, hiding a grimace at the expected reactions - disgust, anger, maybe just disappointment because Geralt knows how some people equate bards to whores.

What he doesn’t expect is a kiss, one so eager and clumsy that their teeth clink and almost cut his lip. It’s also soft and Jaskier’s eyes are screwed shut, so Geralt thinks _fuck it_ and leans closer.

He licks at the dry lips and tastes the ale on Jaskiers tongue. He strokes his hip, trying to calm his nerves because he can smell them and feel them in the way Jaskier’s shaking under his grip.

They land on the bed, Jaskier settling on his lap and grinding against him with a breathy moan that makes his blood boil. He grabs at his hips and brings him lower, pushes him closer and shivers as their erections touch through the fabric.

“Oil?” he barks out, to taste the water and try and figure Jaskier out. Surprise always make people more honest, at least for a moment, certainly enough to let him feel any hesitance or reluctance.

He likes Jaskier enough to care about hurting him, no matter the raunchy songs and the flirting that he seems to employ as soon another human comes even remotely close to him.

Jaskier turns an adorable shade of red before he cranes to his abandoned lute case, to take out a little glass bottle. Oil clearly meant for the wood, but looks and smells clear enough to not do any harm so Geralt grabs it as he pulls Jakier into another kiss.

They shed their clothes with only minor stumbling, the many laces of bard’s silks giving the most rouble as they tangle in his shaking hands. Geralt grabs his wrist then, bringing them up to kiss as the calloused fingers until the stop shaking so much.

It’s almost funny, the way Jaskier seems so out of his depth, and certainly adorable. He chucks it to _being with a witcher_ , because that never stops making people shaky even when they know what they agree to and have time to get used to the idea, and Jaskier only had a hot minute to do so.

Geralt takes great care to prep him, sitting up to hold him close in his lap, kissing and biting at a slender neck and shoulders as his hands slide around his back, his legs spread wide on his thighs.

It’s a nice change to feel Jaskier melt against him with each finger, hear him moan and gasp in his ear, smell the pure lust in the air, instead of always making sure to check if his partner is still willing.

He growls when nails drag across his back, the sound lost in Jaskier’s scream as he sakes in his arm and spills between them. Geralt grabs at his hair to bring him to a kiss that leaves them both breathless, fingers still deep inside and stroking at his prostate, holding him through the aftershocks.

“More.” Jaskier gasps as soon as his lips are free, eyes glassy as he looks at Geralt, hands grabbing at his back, his arms, finally pulling at his hair. “You too now, come on!” hie grinds his hips down and Geralt takes a shaky breath to keep in control.

He finds the oil by the smell and grabs at Jaskier’s hand to spill it onto his fingers before guiding it to his cock. Last chance to let him change his mind and back out - wouldn’t be the first time and Geralt has more than enough ideas for them to continue in other ways, as long as Jaskier’s willing - and as bard’s fingers barely close around the shaft, he expects him to.

“Fuck.” But Jaskier only licks his lips and strokes him, gently, before pulling himself up on shaky legs.

Geralt grabs his hips, thumbs stroking at the jutting bone as he moves him in position, and then lets him sink down.

“Found a way to keep you silent, hmm?” he huffs against his neck, nosing at the sweaty skin and breathing his scent in, letting Jaskier get used to it and giving himself a moment to indulge in the _pure want_ that emanates from him so deliciously.

Jaskier lets out a choked moan, squeezing at him and wriggling in his lap, face flushed and hair sticking to his forehead.

“You wish.” he gasps after a good moment with a slow grind of his hips. “Move!”

Geralt can’t quite bite down the quiet _thank gods_ he groans as he starts moving, pulling Jaskier up by his hips and then rising his own as he lets bard’s weight pull him down.

The fingers stay in Geralt’s hair, pulling and scratching at his scalp, but never more than on the edge of uncomfortable, just holding and never trying to force him into anything. It gets to his head, makes him busy himself with Jaskiers neck to whisper the sweet nothings into his skin so they won’t be heard.

Because he can’t remember the last time he was with someone so willing and wanting, no strings or payment attached and it gets to him. Makes him angle his hips until Jaskier is screaming again, shaking in his arm and then keep at it despite the strain on his own spine.

Anything to make it good enough to maybe have it happen again. Anything to keep him close, to keep his touch sure and his smell so sweet.

Jaskier comes three more times before Geralt finally spill inside him, so he hopes he did well enough. He did make him lose his voice by the end, only gasps and breathy moans coming out to mix with his own growls and rapid breaths.

He pulls Jaskier up gently and shares his grimace at the wet mess. He lays him down by the wall, where the bed is somewhat cleaner, and gets up.

He grabs his shirt to wipe himself and stretches with a satisfied sigh. He really hopes they do it again.

“How was it?” Jaskier’s voice is _wrecked_ and it sends a shiver down Geralt’s spine, makes him want another go right now, but he forces his heart to keep slow.

“Great.” he looks Jaskier over and notices him shiver, so he covers him with the shirt.

“Eww.” Jaskier slaps at his arm, but doesn’t move beside that so Geralt just rolls his eyes.

“I’ll bring you a rag and water to wash, but the sheets will need to go.” he says and goes to the small tub in the corner. Water is luke-warm, but it’s good enough to wash off.

He brings a small bowl and a towel for Jaskier, taking out a spare shirt to give him and tries no to feel guilty when he sees him wince as he sits up.

“Clean up, I’ll go and ask them to let us sleep in.”

Jaskier nods and leans down to pull the sheets closer, the shirt falling down to expose naked skin. His decidedly filthy with sweat and come and there are bruises forming on his hips, bitemarks already dark on his neck and he smells of both of them. Geralt has to force himself to look away.

Jaskier’s not looking at him, his gaze stubbornly keeping to the sheet he’s pulling closer and Geralt tried not to let it get to him. He wouldn’t be the first to baulk at the sight of him naked, no matter how eager and willing he was in bed. The scars and his hulking build are much different to a clear mind and from far enough to take it all in and at least Jaskier’s doesn't reek of fear nor disgust. He can deal with no eye contact.

When he comes back, Jaskier’s curled up under the blanket and the dirty sheet is crumpled on the floor. He can still see his own shirt sliding off his arm where he’s hugging the pillow like a toy and smiles briefly before sitting on the floor to meditate.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post to be found here: https://des8pudels8kern.tumblr.com/post/611229451037163520/starrose17-a-creepycookie-starrose17


End file.
